So, the random winner for the BSE-er of June is…. Emily! She just got a very pretty in pink new blog, so be sure to go say hi!
PharmacistMike made an excellent point in the comments. It was one of the more entertaining comment sections we’ve had on these posts. Men, check your testicles. (Did that sound a little like, “gentlemen, start your engines?” it did to me.)
And just in case you’re not going to go read, fine. Here a few highlights. Becky got married, Stacey is pleased to be a woman, and had a great progress report, Cmerie (who just got a cute haircut) was inspired to post a funny story you just have to go read (in comments), Shalee provided a fashion report and bluepaintred also had a positive report.
Soooo. It took me longer than usual to get around to this! I’ve BEEN. BUSY!!!! In a good way!
I’ve been finishing up the last of the final edits before my book could go to the printers. And it did! It’s officially at the printers. Wherever that is. How exciting!!!!
I have no idea how much longer until I get to see it, but I’ll let you know.
If all of you just got a thousand notifications of new posts from me, um. Sorry. I needed to update the links in every post that mentioned Total Transformation and that kinda took awhile. Who knew there were so many? Anyway. I think I’m done now.
Have you done that BSE yet?
As I type, a spider awaits certain death on the ceiling above me. It’d be easier if we didn’t have huge ceilings that form an upside down V, and if the spider were not at the highest point of that upside down V. But whatever.
At least it is not a snake. Yesterday, it was a snake. Not on the bedroom ceiling, of course. In the backyard. I ran in the house screaming for Mike, who was busy painting Caden-4yr’s room. I told him of the snake with an expression on my face that clearly indicated he was expected to morph into Snake Terminator. Pronto. Perhaps that assumption seems a bit archaic in its gender roles, but I have no trouble with fully declaring that The One With Testicles Must Kill Snakes. And spiders. Please.
Before yesterday, we’ve never had a snake, and so there had been no need to previously negotiate the Snake Terminator role. (Therefore, it is rather impressive that it was all done instantaneously with the expression on my face, don’t you think?) Not that this saved us any time. Mike needed to wash his hands. He’d been painting. And apparently, Snake Terminators must have sparkling clean, hygienic hands to get near their subjects.
Surgeons do not wash their hands as thoroughly as Mike did.
However. Then he donned boots (with shorts), and went to face the snake, who was stupid enough to hang around in the same spot for the entire time Mike washed and rewashed his hands.
Since he was wearing boots with shorts – and holding the largest pair of BBQ tongs ever created, of course I took pictures and called the boys to watch through the window.
Snake Terminator (with very clean hands, and boots – with shorts) prevailed. We cheered. We took photos. I ushered the children away from the window when the snake needed to pass on from this life.
It was all very exciting, and Seth-2yr and Caden-4yr yelled ” NAKE!” for what seemed like forever. Seth-2yr’s tongue did ’nake imitations all night. Adrenalin ran high, and suddenly all of us were a bit jumpy about anything unexpectedly brushing up against us. Mike and the boys looked up the ’nake on the internet and determined it was a mildly venomous but not deadly variety. Blech.
I am SO glad I do not have testicles. Even with them, I could not possibly wear shorts with boots. Never.
Which brings me to the real point of this post. If you also do not have testicles, and do have breasts, then please do your monthly self breast exam. Pronto! Then leave a comment on this post saying you did so, and then you are eligible to receive a fantastically cute rainbow assortment of bath gels. I think there are 7 or 8. Very cute.
Snake Terminator has slayed the spider. Yay!
So I’m going through one of those (numerous) spells where I avoid the phone, writing here (or anywhere else), and I haven’t checked my main email inbox in 2 weeks. I do that. No big thing. I’m fine.
Hope you are as well.
See you tomorrow.
This morning the boys and I piled into the car, and Ethan-8yr immediately made a face and said, “Yuck! What’s that smell?”
I don’t have much of a sense of smell, and didn’t know what he was talking about. But i DO have a phobia of gross, forgotten sippy cups lingering under car seats. I asked Ethan-8yr to look for an old cup.
He diligently searched the car, and then said, “Oh! Yep. I see it.”
“A sippy cup?”
“No. Just an old beer of Dad’s.”
Um. Last I checked, Mike didn’t drink. Last I heard, he wasn’t really big on drinking and driving, either.
“Uh? Ethan-8yr? Could you hand it to me please?”
“Sure. Gross.” He hands me an unopened can of Mr. Pibb and makes a face.
“Uh…that’s Dad’s, but it’s not beer. I think it’s kinda like Dr. Pepper. The wrong drink came out of a coke maching the other day.”
“Oh! Like Dr. Pepper?! CAN I HAVE IT, pleeeeeaAse?”
“No. And what was smelling so bad?”
“Oh, probably just Seth-2yr.”
In all fairness, sweet little Seth-2yr did not smell bad (at that particular moment). If that conversation had lasted even a few moments longer, I’m sure Caden-4yr and I would have been unintentionally maligned as well.
This morning Ethan-8yr and Caden-4yr collided in the hallway. I couldn’t see it, since they were around the corner, but I could certainly hear it. It was clear that Caden-4yr had been the one who got hurt. He’s pretty tough, so his yelping in pain got Ethan-8yr’s attention very quickly.
“I’m sorry, Caden-4yr! It was an accident!”
“Here, why don’t you punch me in the Twinkle Spot?”
Which made me think….well. Maybe Mike forgot to use anatomically correct words in his talk the other day…
And while I considered this I heard Caden-4yr say, “Well. Okay!”
And I stopped pondering the vocabulary of my children and then shrieked at them to stop, and then somewhat calmly explained that you NEVER invite someone to punch you in the Twinkle Spot (this needs to be said?), or anywhere else for that matter. Then I outlined how it is better to reduce the total number of injuries, accidental or otherwise, than to simply make all the injuries EQUAL among them. And I forgot to correct the vocabulary and didn’t give it a second thought until right this moment. I suspect I’ll have a chance to get around to that tomorrow.
Seth-2yr has had a fever and a sore throat. He’s moped and been miserable all day. So tonight I was VERY surprised to hear him laughing hysterically. He was in the bathtub with Caden-4yr, who was screaming “MooooOOOOoom!” Interesting combination of very loud, conflicting noises coming from that bathtub. One brother totally deliriously joyful, and another panicked and needing help.
I ran in and found Seth-2yr, laughing harder than perhaps he’s ever laughed, and Caden-4yr – a stricken look of horror on his face.
He was covered in vomit.
“Mom. Look what Seth-2yr did! It is uh-skuss-ting. I am uh-skuss-ting.”
“Oh! No. You are not disgusting. Um. You just have a lot of throw up on you.” Riiiight. Realizing how ridiculous those statements were, and how suddenly thankful I was that i have an almost nonexistent sense of smell, I just covered my face so Caden-4yr wouldn’t see me smile.
Then we both came to our senses and started washing him off. Well, not Seth-2yr. He laughed and pointed, and tried to re-enact the moment of drama in case I had somehow missed the greatness of what had transpired.
Poor Caden-4yr. He got smashed in a hallway collision, coated in Projectile Style Sick, and he didn’t even get the consolation prize of punching anyone’s private parts.